


What Happened Outside the Bus

by MissBeiBauble



Series: What Happened to Radar O'Reilly? [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Episode Related, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Description, Guilt, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Sickfic, Tags Contain Spoilers, Walks In The Woods, Whump, basically what i wanted to happen, hurt radar, radar whump, season 4 episode 6 'The Bus'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBeiBauble/pseuds/MissBeiBauble
Summary: "Oh, uh, listen, would you guys come back to me, please? I gotta go to the latrine.""Have to take a hammer and nails and build one.""I'll manage."Takes place during the episode 'The Bus'. Radar goes out halfcocked in the dead of night to get some help...and encounters much more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for checking this out! It's such a self-indulgent little fic I wasn't sure I'd post it at all, but I figured for any other lovers of Radar-centric stories this might be some fun. Basically I gave the little bean more 'excitement' than he got in the actual episode, continuing on with my tradition of putting my favorite characters through the wringer, heheh. Also I loved the North Korean soldier that made an appearance in the ep, he seemed like such a sweetheart, so he gets some extra screen time, too.
> 
> Hope this is as fun to read as it was to write!

As soon as Radar stepped off the bus and into the cool night air, he immediately felt like turning right around and rejoining his friends – minus one particular major – in their jovial story swapping. It took all he had not to. Instead, he swallowed through the lump in his throat and took slow, careful steps forward, wide eyes darting from side to side in an attempt to take in everything at once.

He wasn’t going to kid himself; he was scared, scared enough to feel tremors run up and down his body, making his hands shake. These woods were plenty dangerous during the day, never mind without the aid of light to at least have a little warning of the danger you were strolling into. As he moved closer to the tree line, peering into the murky brush, he had to admit there was also a deep-seated, almost instinctive fear of dangers beyond enemy snipers, land mines, and large wildlife. The same kind of fear every child experiences in a dark room – the certainty that there was _something_ in that darkness with them, something evil, watching with malicious intent.

Radar had to shake himself before the terror gripped him entirely, frustrated and angry at the realization that he hadn’t yet grown out of such juvenile fears. He was nineteen, for crying out loud. 

He took a deep breath, raised his chin, and allowed himself one last glance back at the bus – at safety – before stepping into the woods along the side of the road (not that there was much of a distinction at this point). 

He had to make this right. No matter what the others said – what Hawkeye said – he couldn’t help feeling responsible for the dangerous position they were all in. He knew all too well he had no control over when and how much his little ‘gift’ kicked in, but the others had clearly relied on it as some sort of extra security measure during the trip, from their comments about it being ‘jammed’. It was supposed to act as a radar, after all, and it hadn’t, and he’d gotten them all lost because he sure as heck didn’t know where they were going after that weird turn, no one else was offering to drive, they were so tired and hungover and he just felt so _bad_…

A snapping of branches to his left jolted him out of his spiraling thoughts and he froze in mid-step. He strained his hearing, trying to gauge if whatever made the noise was coming closer, but it was hard to hear anything over his pounding heart and stuttered breaths. After what felt like ages of relative silence, he felt somewhat safe in gently finishing his step, pulse still racing in his ears. He continued on, even quieter than before.

The idea was to go on ahead and find…something. A sign, a hut, some form of civilization that could offer some kind of clue as to where they were and which way they should be going. They’d all done a little of that earlier in the day, but he doubted any of them got further than fifty feet from the bus, if that. He meant to not come back until he had something useful to offer; he got them into this mess, he reasoned it was only fair he contributed as much as possible into getting them out of it, even if it was just to say for sure whether or not it was clear to keep going down the same road they were on. 

It seemed a solid enough plan, if he was careful about it. He could be very careful when he needed to be – and boy, he thought as he nearly slid down a steep dip in the terrain, he never needed to be more than right now.

It’d been maybe little over half an hour. He’d managed so far with only a few scrapes here and there from being grazed by low hanging branches when his head was turned and catching himself on his hands and knees when he would inevitably have his ankle snagged by a grass root. Despite the mild pains, he was surprised to find that he felt a little more at ease as he continued on, mostly due to not having encountered any of the threats he’d dreaded. His eyes had adjusted to the dark and to his delight he could sometimes spot some of the nocturnal wildlife going about their evening. The air was filled with constant cricket song, reminding him of home, of sitting on the front porch with his Ma and Uncle Ed after dinner to catch the last remains of sunset before going to bed. His soft, warm, ever so safe bed… 

He couldn’t help a giant yawn, his first one all night. Thus far his adrenaline had kept even the very idea of sleep shoved to the back of his mind, hardly allowing him to blink as he travelled the unfamiliar surroundings. Now that it’d begun to wear off, the day’s fatigue and a gnawing hunger settled on him heavily. He tried to ignore it; he couldn’t go back now. It wasn’t as if there was food on the bus, anyway, he thought miserably, knowing his friends were just as starved as he was. 

He hoped they didn’t come looking for him. Not only would he just hate that he put them in danger, but Radar also knew that when it got right down to it, if they were to get seriously hurt or even - he shuddered – _die_, the MASH unit would suffer a much greater loss than if something happened to him, being only a company clerk and all. A darn good one, he couldn’t deny, but still a clerk nonetheless.

Now Major Burns, on the other hand... Not that he wished any harm to the man, and he would never, ever even think this in the same room as him, but Radar was fairly certain he was worth much more to the camp than the weasel-faced doctor. He’d like to think so, anyway.

An hour, now, and still no sign of anything helpful. He was getting better at navigating between the scraggly trees, only getting his cap snagged twice. The hunger was really knotting up his stomach now, and he’d briefly considered finding some berries or nuts or something, before dismissing the idea. Even if he could find something that looked edible, he didn’t know the area well enough to be able to determine what actually _was_ edible. He wasn’t going to risk getting sick so far from any kind of help. He’d just have to tough it out, he thought gloomily.

He suddenly halted in his tracks. With stomach-dropping certainty, Radar realized he wasn’t alone in this stretch of the woods. There were no obvious signs – no footsteps, no voices, no light flickering in the darkness. Not yet. But he knew.

He had to hide before _they_ came to the same realization.

Keeping as silent as he possibly could in the state of near panic he was in, he glanced around for somewhere that would cover him sufficiently. He really didn’t want to go crawling into the thorn-choked bushes that surrounded the area, so he scanned the trees for climbing potential. There was one just ahead with sturdy-looking branches; he took no time in clambering up to straddle the lowest branch, maybe ten feet high over the ground. Simple enough for him, despite not having climbed a tree since spending a summer at his aunt’s place in northern Illinois. He always could climb higher than any of his cousins.

He got settled just in time. _Now_ he heard footsteps, and he knew there were four men, soldiers – North Korean soldiers. He hoped with all he had that he was wrong, but he knew there wasn’t a chance of it. He was as certain of those men being North Korean as he was of the stars being in the sky. He pursed his lips and braced himself as a light came closer and closer.

Sooner than he would’ve liked, four men came into view, carrying packs and lanterns. They were in North Korean uniforms. 

Looks like his radar wasn’t jammed anymore, he thought bitterly.

As they stepped closer to his hiding place, he felt as though he would faint from the terror that seized him at the realization he was in the presence of the enemy. The large guns they carried rattled with every step, reminding him painfully that he didn’t stand a hair of a chance against them, were they to spot him. The soldiers murmured quietly to each other, their voices rough and strained. 

It was just his awful luck that had them come to a stop just a few feet away from his hiding place, two of them seemingly arguing with each other. Radar tried to hold perfectly still, but trembles wracked through his body and it was so hard to control his erratic breathing. He felt as though he were suffocating, why wouldn’t they just go, just keep walking and never come back…!

One of the arguing soldiers thrust his lantern onto another soldier so his hands were free to gesticulate wildly, and the movement caught Radar’s eye – which was then caught by something he hadn’t noticed before in the dim light. Sticking out of one of the men’s packs was a large folded up piece of paper, worn and dog-eared. Radar leaned down a bit to get a better look at it. From what little he could see from so far up, there was a decent chance of it being a map. Oh, wouldn’t that be something to bring back to the guys! It would be in Korean but he knew enough basic words of the language that it shouldn’t pose too much of a problem to translate, and in any case just the drawings themselves would be enough to give them a better idea of their location, maybe even show them the way home! 

Alright, so it probably wouldn’t be _that_ much help to them, but his hopes had already begun to soar at the idea of bringing back something so tangibly useful. There was still the matter of the bus being broken down, but he figured if they still couldn’t get it fixed after trying in the morning they could just walk. A small price to pay for getting to safety.

Now then: just how was a little corporal to steal a map from four armed North Korean soldiers? Radar furrowed his brows, panic subsided as he focused on thinking. He’d have to distract them, somehow, or follow them until they camped for the night and wait for them to fall asleep. Could he be quiet enough? What if he lost them? Maybe he could – 

Everything seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. He’d been subconsciously leaning forward, further and further as he considered different options, and before his hand could reach up to keep his cap in place it had slid off his head and plummeted to the ground below. For something made of fabric it sure as hell made a lot of noise on the way down, jostling leaves and brush alike; although the circumstances might have just made it seem so. Really it could’ve landed as silently as snow for all it mattered, the soldiers would’ve noticed it regardless – mainly due to the fact that it now hung suspended on a branch of brush almost directly in front of where they were standing.

Radar _really_ thought he was going to faint then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night's only begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter, with a change of POV in the middle~

Almost immediately the four North Korean soldiers drew their weapons with startled exclamations and stared first at Radar’s cap, then up into the tree, noticing him right away. Radar was quick to raise his hands in surrender. He was shaking harder than the leaves of that tree in a gust of wind. Three of the soldiers had their guns trained on him while one of them shouted harsh commands, gesturing with his weapon to come down. 

“Oh! Oh, yeah – y-yeah! I’m coming, I’m – uh, uh – ” Radar struggled to remember the Korean word as he began to shuffle backwards. “Oh, _oneun_!! Oneun, oneun!” He was fairly certain that was the correct word for ‘coming’. Or at least close enough. Why he never learned the Korean word for ‘surrender’ was beyond him and something he planned on changing the minute he got back to camp…_if_ he got back to camp.

It was pretty difficult to make your way down a tree when you were trembling as much as he was. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the soldiers like he needed so he could turn to go down the trunk. Apparently he was too slow for one of the soldier’s liking; without warning a shot rang out and Radar practically jumped out of his skin with a terrified yelp. He lost his balance and hit the ground with such dizzying speed, it took him a moment to realize he’d fallen. At first all he could do was gasp desperately for the breath that was pounded out of him…and then he felt a searing, white-hot pain lance through his entire right leg. He cried out and reached down instinctively with a hand that felt numb.

The soldiers began shouting again, but Radar didn’t think they were yelling at him this time, from what it looked like. The one that had been commanding him to come down was now arguing with the one that shot him, and they both gestured at him with sharp movements. The other two had their guns locked on him. Radar noticed one of them was watching him with what looked like…concern?

He managed to push himself up to a sitting position with some difficulty and, grimacing, checked the source of the horrible pain. There was a hole in the fabric of his pants just under his knee, and through it he could see something dark and glistening in the faint light. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep from drawing more attention to himself as the burning sensation seemed to spread deep into the muscles of his calf. He’d been _shot_. He’d actually been shot! Whoever heard of getting shot in a war? He didn’t think he’d ever been in so much pain.

He jerked as something suddenly prodded his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to look up into the face of the soldier that stood in front of him, gun in one hand. The North Korean bent to frisk him brusquely, ignoring Radar’s startled complaints. Satisfied, the soldier then turned back to the others and said something in a dismissive tone. They all exchanged a few more words, occasionally looking back at him throughout the brief meeting. Then one of them – the one that shot him, Radar noted angrily – started to bark orders at him, shaking his gun in a threatening manner.

Radar swallowed. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the loud one wanted him to stand up. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” He hoped he wasn’t wrong, or else he might get shot again in a place that really mattered. With a groan he struggled to his feet, having to lean on the tree he’d so recently fallen out of for support. He carefully tried putting weight on his right foot – and shrieked at the spike of pain that shot up his leg. Tears sprung to his eyes as he clung to the tree, burying his face into the rough bark, features tight with pain.

The North Koreans were murmuring to each other, and the one who’d ordered him to come down from the tree – Radar believed him to be the leader of the group – shoved the loud soldier in frustration, saying something to him that sounded a lot like a chastisement. The loud one turned to shout something back, and they were off arguing again.

As this was going on, another soldier – the one who earlier showed what Radar thought was concern – began to step over to Radar. Radar raised a hand as he approached, using the other one to keep himself steady against the tree, hoping it was obvious enough that he was completely defenseless and was by no stretch of the imagination a threat to any of them.

The North Korean, just a bit taller than Radar, made a point of slinging his gun back behind him and also raising his hands, in more of a ‘I mean you no harm’ gesture. He was looking concerned again. Radar blinked at him, confused. 

The soldier said something to him; Radar could only pick up the word ‘help’. 

“Uh,” was all he could reply, now thoroughly bewildered. The soldier repeated the sentence and moved closer to him, reaching for his right arm. Radar recoiled. “Uh, no, no that’s okay, really, you don’t have to – gah!” 

He was now being supported by the soldier, his right arm across the man’s shoulders and his wrist gripped securely. He felt the man pat his back before taking a small step forward. Radar had no choice but to also take a step, putting the barest of weight on his injured side. There was still a flash of pain, but nowhere near as bad as it would’ve been unaided. He glanced up at the soldier, who offered a sincere smile and an encouraging nod.

“Hey, thanks,” Radar murmured with a tiny smile of his own. There was no need for this North Korean to treat him so kindly; he got a strong sense that the soldier felt sorry for what had happened to him. Normally Radar wouldn’t enjoy being fussed over by someone, never mind a stranger – never mind an enemy stranger! – but given the dangerous circumstances he found himself in, kindness might just be the only thing that would save him now.

The kind soldier said something then to his comrades. The leader glanced their way and gave Radar a once over with an inscrutable expression before nodding once. With a word he began to walk on. The loud soldier sputtered for a moment while snapping his incredulous gaze back and forth between the leader and their prisoner. He finally gave an order to the third soldier and stomped off as well, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder at Radar as he did so.

Radar gulped at the raw hostility, but also couldn’t help but be a little amused at the blatant way the loud North Korean’s fellow soldiers only barely tolerated him. It reminded him so much of a certain major. If the enemy side also had its fair share of Frank Burns’ in their ranks, surely the ‘police action’ couldn’t last much longer, he thought.

The kind soldier gave him a nudge then, motioning with his head that they had to follow the others. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, uh, I’m right beside you,” he muttered, very much not looking forward to any of the things he was sure were in store for him in the hours ahead.

-*-*-*-

“He should’ve been back by now.”

Hawkeye paced the length of the bus for what must’ve been the hundredth time since Radar left, peering out of every window he passed. He’d felt anxious at the idea of the kid going out in the dark in what very well could be enemy territory, even if it was just for a quick ‘latrine’ visit, but at the time didn’t want to seem like an overbearing mother by telling him to hold it or – god forbid – offering to go _with_ him. So he cracked a joke and didn’t even watch as Radar stepped off the bus and out into the night.

That was two hours ago.

“He’ll be alright, Pierce,” Colonel Potter said in that steady, sure voice the next time Hawkeye went by his seat. Hawkeye shook his head, barely hearing him. He’d wanted to go looking for the corporal after the first twenty minutes, B.J. ready to join him, but had to stand down under orders. Potter didn’t want any of them getting lost out there in the search, and Hawkeye appreciated the sentiment – even agreed with the logic of it – but that was then, when Radar’s prolonged absence could’ve been explained away by him getting a little turned around in finding his way back. But now, after two whole hours?

Something had happened, and there was nothing anyone could say to convince Hawkeye otherwise.

His hands began to grip and work at the nearest back of a seat so vigorously his fingers ached as his mind provided scenario after scenario of what Radar could be going through right at that very minute.

“Hey, Hawk,” B.J. suddenly said, drawing him out of his unpleasant thoughts. His friend was looking at him with that ambiguous little smile. “I think you should forget about a side gig as a masseuse; that poor seat’s looking more stressed than you are.”

Hawkeye released his hold on the seat with a faint, not-quite-embarrassed laugh. “Well, there goes the dream,” he quipped back half-heartedly, returning to pacing the aisle.

“I thought I told you ninnies to shut your pie holes!” Frank barked over his shoulder from his cot. “Some of us are trying to sleep! Gotta save our strength for when the enemy closes in.”

“Sure, I hear the white flag can get pretty heavy,” B.J. retorted.

“Oh, can it, Hunnicutt! This is all just one big joke to you two, isn’t it!” Frank flopped over to his other side, facing them. “And another thing! I just don’t get why you guys even bother to worry about that two-faced little corporal. He’s gone AWOL, do you realize that? He abandoned us to die out here!”

Hawkeye turned on him like a homing missile with a glare just as deadly. “Oh, no,” he said as he started for him. “No. You don’t get to say _anything_ about him, how _dare_ you –”

B.J. had to catch his friend by the shoulder before he could do any serious damage to the now cowering Major. “Easy, Hawk.”

“Look, Frank, I know this is something beyond your range of understanding, but us humans do this funny thing where we develop strong relationships with certain people, and tend to worry when something bad happens to them,” Hawkeye snapped at Burns, his underlying fear only coming to surface with the last few words.

“_Or_ when they’re just missing and we don’t know what happened to them yet,” B.J. added pointedly. 

Frank scoffed and settled back, still very much uneasy under Hawkeye’s stare. “Well, I still say he deserted,” he muttered petulantly as he tightened his hold on his precious walkie-talkie.

A beat. Then Hawkeye nodded. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you boys,” Potter interjected. “Now settle down and shut up.” He waited until Hawkeye finally allowed himself to sit. “Look, I know tensions are high. You’re not the only one worried about the boy, Pierce.” Emotion laced those words and the Colonel sighed. “But right now there’s nothing we can do for him without sacrificing our own lives to do it, and it’s too early in my position as the Colonel of this unit to lose a couple of the finest surgeons playing find-the-corporal-in-the-dark-forest.”

Hawkeye wouldn’t look at him. He made too much sense.

“I promise you this, though,” Potter then added in a solemn tone, “as soon as the sun pokes its head over the horizon, we’ll be out there scouring the whole country for him if need be. That boy’s coming home with us, whether he wants to or not.”

“He’s our Radar,” B.J. said with a fond grin.

Frank scoffed again and uttered some more clues of their location into the radio, eyes to the sky.

Hawkeye’s head drooped as he laced his fingers together. “I just hope by then it’s not too late,” he sighed.

“Why don’t we all try to get some shut-eye,” Potter said soothingly. “We’ll take shifts to keep a look out for – yes, Pierce, the first one’s yours.”

Hawkeye’s hand had raised as soon as shifts were mentioned, and he was back to eyeing the windows. B.J. watched him throughout, concern writ on his features, but he knew his friend well enough already to realize it would be an exercise in futility trying to calm him in his current state. B.J. had only known Radar for a short time and it was enough to make him feel very worried now that he was missing; he could only imagine the panic Hawkeye must be wrestling with, having known the young company clerk for as long as he had. They were as good as brothers, from what he’d seen and how he heard his friend talk about the corporal. It was a wonder Potter’s orders had been enough to keep Hawkeye from traipsing out into the woods to search for him. B.J. hoped that didn’t change once everyone was asleep…

He laid out on a cot with his hands folded beneath his head and closed his eyes. “He’s probably found a place to sleep and plans on coming back in the morning; you know he’s got to be exhausted,” B.J. suggested, for Hawkeye’s sake more than anything else.

Hawkeye nodded, wanting more than anything for that to be true. And why shouldn’t it be? Why did everything have to be a worst-case scenario? For all he knew, Radar had gotten tired out there and was now tucked away in a little burrow or something, nice and cozy and fast asleep. There was a good chance that was exactly what had happened. A better chance, even, than the likelihood of Radar getting shot, or being taken prisoner, or especially – 

An explosion in the distance made everyone jump out of their seats, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

“We’re being shelled!” Frank screamed. “We’re surrounded! Every man for himself!” He threw himself to the floor of the bus and scrambled underneath his cot, clutching the radio and babbling SOS messages into its receiver like a madman.

“Knock it off, Major!” Potter snapped. “That wasn’t a shell, that was…” His voice trailed, realization dawning on him then.

“A mine,” B.J. finished slowly. “Something set off a mine.” 

“_Radar_,” Hawkeye breathed. He stared in blank disbelief where the sound of the explosion had come from, further down the road they’d been travelling. “My God, _Radar_…!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...is that considered a cliffhanger? I'm sorry for it regardless; couldn't help myself, it was the perfect transition to what's coming next for our poor boi, lol. 
> 
> ALSO: I get any and all Korean direct from Google translate, so many apologies if words are used inaccurately!! Thanks so much for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Radar's POV. Things are going to get worse before they can get better...

The telephone was ringing. Ringing, ringing, ringing…was no one going to answer it? 

Oh, right. That was his job.

Radar made himself open his eyes. He still couldn’t see anything. The smell was something awful; the air was thick and acrid like it was that time their camp was getting shelled by their own side, smoke and debris roiling through shattered windows and hazing his glasses… He should probably put on his glasses, that might help.

He attempted to reach around for them. He couldn’t feel himself move…was he even moving? Boy, was it hard to stay awake. And the phone kept ringing, why did they have to call so late at night? It must be something important, he should get up and answer it. 

There were voices fading in and out of the constant ringing, like when he would tune the unit’s radio trying to catch the trail of a message through waves of static. Whoever was there sounded scared, panicked. And was someone…screaming…?

This didn’t register to Radar as anything to be concerned over. And when a voice became even louder than the ringing, close to his face, using words he couldn’t understand – were they talking to him? – he didn’t feel all that concerned over it, either. He didn’t feel much of anything.

And then suddenly, with an intensity that snatched the breath out of him, he did. He felt _everything_.

Radar was mercifully slammed back into unconsciousness.

-*-*-*-

When he came to again, he was much more aware of himself. And even more horribly, abundantly aware of the amount of agony that he was in. A strangled moan escaped through his gritted teeth as his fingers clutched at the grass beneath him. He didn’t want to open his eyes; he was terrified of what he knew he’d see.

The burnt smell that choked the air wasn’t as pungent as it was…whenever he’d first woken up. There was still ringing in his ears from the blast.

The sudden memory of it seemed to stab through his skull, exacerbating his already splitting headache. He was flooded, then, with memories of the events leading up to the disaster.

They’d been walking briskly, the North Korean soldiers. Radar assumed they were returning to a base camp of some sort, and the idea of being killed immediately upon arrival would’ve made him slow his pace as much as he could even if he hadn’t been shot in the leg. As it was, despite the aid of the kind enemy soldier, Radar’s painful limping had kept them several paces behind the leader and the loud soldier. The third soldier, quiet this whole time, was just behind Radar with a gun always aimed for his back. Radar was a prisoner, after all.

The whole time they were travelling, the loud soldier – the mean, Frank-Burns-esque soldier – kept glaring over his shoulder directly at Radar. Each time he seemed to get angrier and angrier, muttering under his breath and nudging the leader. The leader just ignored him.

At some point along the way, the kind soldier had gestured to himself and said to Radar, “Soon-Tek. Naneun Soon-Tek.”

Radar nodded to show his understanding. “Oh, it’s nice to meet you – uh, formally and all that, I mean. I –” he now tapped a finger to his own chest and enunciated his words, “I am Radar.”

“Iamradar,” Soon-Tek repeated with a nod and a grin.

“No, no – _Radar_. Radar.”

“Ah, Radar!”

“Yeah, you got it.” Radar couldn’t help but smile a little, too. Soon-Tek seemed like such a nice guy. He thought he was just the sort Hawkeye and B.J. would take to. 

The thought of his friends diminished the little good humor he’d gained interacting with Soon-Tek as a wave of homesickness swept through him. What he wouldn’t have given to be with them right then, just as hungry and nervous and guilty sitting in that bus as he was out in the woods, but they’d be _together_. Whatever happened, Hawkeye, B.J., and Colonel Potter would know what to do, know just what to say to keep them all safe. To keep stupid things like getting shot at and being taken prisoner from happening.

Radar deflated as he considered all that’d happened in the past hour. He couldn’t believe he ever thought he’d do any good by going out on his own. Who was he trying to kid, playing hero like that?

_I just wanted to fix my mistake._

_By making another one?_

It was a long, exhausting, depressing half hour.

Soon-Tek had been making what sounded like small talk, and Radar probably could’ve picked up enough phrases out of what he was saying to indulge in stunted conversation with him, but the pain in his leg had only gotten much worse with time and use. It was very difficult to focus on much of anything; he’d wanted desperately to just curl into a ball and sleep until he didn’t hurt so much. 

Something besides the pain had been growing steadily inside him, as well. It felt like the same sensation of unease he’d had when Henry Blake went off in that chopper, homebound. At that time, Radar had chalked it up to general anxiety over the man’s safety, like any normal person would experience for someone they cared about as much as he cared for Henry. It was a mistake he’d regret for the rest of his life, not acting on that anxiety, not treating it as the warning it was that something was going to go very, very wrong. He sometimes wondered if the others blamed him for Henry’s death, too.

Never mind that he hadn’t known what was going to go wrong, or even that something was. Radar knew he still struggled to define the difference between his own imperfect emotions and fears, and that little ‘gift’ of his that never seemed to fail.

Now, though, as they made their way through the brush, he could almost physically feel the foreboding sensation knotting his gut and screaming _stop, stop, don’t move, don’t take another step!!_

He’d stopped in his tracks. Soon-Tek turned to look at him questioningly. 

“Gwaenchanh-a?” he asked. Radar shook his head minutely, his breathing beginning to escalate as he became more and more certain they were all in danger. He almost didn’t feel the third soldier nudge him in the back with his gun.

“We can’t go any further,” he whispered, then looked at Soon-Tek with wide eyes. “We have to go back, or, or, around – I don’t know which way would be safe, but we can’t – we can’t keep going the way we are!”

Soon-Tek just furrowed his brows, not understanding.

Radar bit his lip and glanced over at the leader and the loud soldier, who were about ten feet ahead of them. “Hey!” he called. “Hey, stop! Uh – jungji, jungji!” When he had their attention, he gestured wildly, trying to make them understand they _had to turn back_. “It’s not safe, please, let’s just go another way!”

The leader narrowed his eyes at Radar’s strange behavior, taking some steps towards him. While he seemed suspicious, however, the loud soldier practically turned red with fury. He marched past the leader until he stood a mere foot away from Radar, glaring down his nose at the thoroughly intimidated corporal. Without another warning Radar felt something smack hard against the side of his face, nearly sending his glasses flying. It took him a second to realize the soldier had hit him.

“Ow…!” He didn’t know why the blow surprised him – they were his enemies – but it did, and he felt simultaneously hurt and angry at the harsh treatment when he was only trying to keep them all safe. Not that he could explain as much to them with his limited Korean vocabulary. Or that they would listen. Soon-Tek said something to the mean soldier but was steamrolled by the man’s shouting what sounded to Radar like a threat. He jabbed a finger in the direction they were heading as he did so.

Radar shook his head and stood his ground. He was terrified of how the mean soldier would react to his disobedience, but there was just no way he was taking another step unless it was backwards. The soldier’s eyes flared, and he raised his hand to hit him again; Radar flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

Soon-Tek grabbed the soldier’s arm before he could carry out the blow, yelling “Geuleul naebeolyeodwo!”

The mean soldier turned on him, then, shoving him roughly back. Radar yelped as he lost his balance without Soon-Tek supporting him, but before he could fall, the loud soldier snatched his collar with one large hand and shook him roughly, with the ease of a child tormenting a doll. He snarled something at him – and then started to drag him along the same direction Radar so desperately wanted to avoid. 

“_No!_ No no no no no –” he begged, scrabbling at the soldier’s grip. He gasped as his leg protested painfully against being jostled in such a manner, but as the soldier ignored his pleas and kept on towards certain danger, Radar had no choice but to literally dig his heels in the dirt in an attempt to stop them from getting any closer. Even expecting the pain that doing something like that would cause, he still couldn’t help but to cry out when it shot through him like a second bullet. He tried pulling back against the soldier, but he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to make much of a difference that way even if he wasn’t in such a poor state. Radar attempted to kick him with his good leg, as well, but the soldier remained unperturbed. 

The other North Koreans followed them, both the leader and Soon-Tek shouting things at the mean soldier and trying to get him to release his hold on Radar, but it was as if the man bore a personal grudge against the corporal and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to show it. Radar’s emotions were running wild, fear and frustration and despair chasing each other in circles as his foreboding sensation grew and loomed over everything else. There was no doubt in his mind; time was running out.

People were going to die if he didn’t do something _right now_.

A surge of adrenaline raced through him, and he glanced over at Soon-Tek, who was trying to keep up with the pace the loud soldier had set. The friendly North Korean met his gaze, worry clear on his features.

“Soon-Tek, you gotta run, you need to stay back!” he warned. He threw his hand in a backward motion and pointed at the man. “Go, go on!” He prayed Soon-Tek would not only understand the message, but listen to it, as well. If Radar could only keep one person safe, it ought to be him.

Miraculously, Soon-Tek hesitated in his steps, and then quickly said something to the others. He began to back off, still looking to Radar with a bewildered expression.

There was no time for reassurances – Radar had to try and save himself now, if it wasn’t too late already. He struggled uselessly with all his remaining strength before an idea came to him. Holding on tight to the soldier’s arm, which was taut with the effort of keeping him upright, he first tested a little jump to see if the soldier would let his arm drop at the extra weight. It barely even dipped; the soldier only turned to glare and snap something at him. Perfect.

Radar pursed his lips, readjusted his grip, and then hoisted his legs up for a good shove at the back of the soldier’s knees. He then promptly fell on his backside as the solider released his hold on his collar. The North Korean staggered a bit before spinning round to stare at him with disbelief.

Radar began to scramble back. _Too close, he was still too close!_

With an infuriated yell, the loud soldier suddenly pulled out his gun and took direct aim between Radar’s eyes. Radar gasped and froze as he came face to face with his death. Despite being a soldier in a war – police action – he’d never thought he’d go like this, shot point blank in the head by a North Korean in the middle of nowhere. So far from his family and friends… He’d never see them again. 

As his would-be executioner cocked his weapon, Radar flew into action, reacting with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of – he snatched a large rock, leaned to the side, and threw it towards the soldier. It went past his legs and landed with a thud just beside him. 

An ear-splitting explosion followed immediately after.

Radar could only remember being blown back from the force of it. Then, darkness.

Now, as his thoughts came in and out of focus, he realized he was propped up against a tree almost neatly. Did he drag himself to that position? He couldn’t even imagine moving without cringing in pain. He wondered if anyone else had survived. If Soon-Tek had gotten enough distance between him and the blast. 

He wished his friends were here. It didn’t even occur to him the benefit of their presence in the medical sense; he just missed them sorely and didn’t want to be alone.

Panic warred with bone-deep exhaustion, and he simultaneously wanted to scream for help at the top of his lungs and just shut his eyes forever. He wasn't sure which one he did first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little trivia, the name of the friendly soldier came from the name of the actor that played him in the episode :3 Thank you so so so much for reading!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Hawkeye didn’t think sleep would ever come after the near panic attack he had from hearing that explosion. The image of their little company clerk being blown to even littler pieces kept flashing to the forefront of his mind no matter how many times he told himself (and the others) it didn’t have to be Radar. There were literally thousands of land mines scattered across the country and thousands of unfortunate soldiers wandering around that could have set one of them off nearby. _It didn’t have to be Radar_.

The unease in that bus was thick and tangible. Frank’s thoughts, of course, were all towards self-preservation and he hadn’t emerged from under his cot since the explosion. Potter had ordered all lights extinguished to minimize chances of getting spotted by an enemy patrol. An argument then ensued over this.

“How do you expect him to find us if we’ve got all the lights off?” Hawkeye had insisted, gesturing vaguely outside.

“Pierce, you know I’d love to make it as easy as possible for the boy to get back here, but I don’t think he’d appreciate returning to a well-lit bus full of bullet-ridden cadavers,” Potter rebuked. “We don’t know what side of the line we’re on, so until we do, I’m taking all the necessary precautions.”

B.J. shook his head. “If only there was a way to let Radar know where we are without doing the same for anybody else.”

“Oh will you just kill the lights already, Colonel?!” they’d all heard hissed from underneath Frank’s cot, in a voice pinched high with barely controlled panic. “We’re completely surrounded by Commies and you guys want to make us an easy target so that a stupid corporal can come crawling back here! How do you even know he’s still alive?!”

“You shut your trap, Major, or I’ll put you on guard duty – outside!” Potter snapped, patience running thin enough to see through.

The only thing they heard from Frank’s direction after that was a few crunching noises here and there. Hawkeye couldn’t convince Potter of their safety leaving the lights on, and since they couldn’t think of a feasible way to lead Radar back to them instead, the Colonel strongly suggested continuing their plan of taking shifts and trying to sleep. Then B.J. insisted on taking the first shift instead of Hawkeye (“Look at him, he’s a wreck!”) and that started a whole new argument over who in fact should get the first shift. Potter would’ve just thrown up his hands and gone to bed himself if it weren’t for the noise. He ended up siding with B.J. and soon enough Hawkeye found himself practically shoved onto a cot, blanket flung over his head with a final ‘goodnight’ from the other two.

Hawkeye didn’t think sleep would ever come, but it did, despite his fear and anxiety and gnawing hunger; or maybe because of it. It was a heavy, dreamless affair that B.J. couldn’t wait to indulge in himself once his shift was up. 

He leaned back in his seat with a long sigh. Worry went one of two ways with him: it either kept him awake better than a pot of coffee, or made him capable of falling asleep on his feet. As his eyelids drooped like they were being weighed down by two anvils, he came to the conclusion that this was one of those times where the latter occurred. 

To keep himself awake he let his mind wander. Given the circumstances, it wandered invariably towards Radar and what could have happened to him. B.J. doubted very much that the kid meant to stay out as long as this; actually, he didn’t know why Radar went out to begin with, if not to relieve himself as he initially claimed. What could he have been thinking, heading out into that wilderness? Obviously his intentions must have leant towards getting help of some kind for them, but what did he expect to find that would be of any real use out there? And why him? Radar was clever, resourceful – cautious almost to a fault. He would’ve known better than to do something so reckless, and yet he’d gone and done it anyway. B.J. expected this kind of audacious behavior from Hawkeye, out of all of them; never from demure little Radar O’Reilly.

The kid wasn’t the type to pull stupid stunts to ‘prove’ himself a hero. Nor did he have any illusions of superiority over all of them, that B.J. could tell. If anything, it was quite the contrary. From what Hawkeye’s told him here and there, Radar has always had low self-esteem and a generally lousy sense of confidence, the poor little guy. It was also clear Radar held the utmost respect and awe of the doctors he worked with. So why, having all that respect, would Radar lie to them all about what he planned on doing and go waltzing into the woods for help? What could’ve driven him to push past his shaky self-confidence and do a dangerous thing like that? There had to be something that made him go through with it, something big.

If it wasn’t bravado, and B.J. knew it couldn’t be mistrust of the Colonel’s command either, then all that was left was…

_‘Radar’s radar is jammed.’_

_‘If it wasn’t, would we be in this mess?’_

_‘Oh, sure, Pierce, blame the Corporal for all this!’_

No, but it couldn’t be. They were quick to assure Radar their situation was nobody’s fault. ‘I know’, he’d even said.

And then hadn’t said much of anything at all up until the point where he’d excused himself and left. He’d seemed very distracted during the Colonel’s story…

_Oh, damn_, thought B.J., leaning his head back with a wince. Radar felt _guilty_. It was guilt that drove him into the woods, desperate to make up for what he imagined was his part in their dangerous predicament. That had to be it.

Radar could very well be dead somewhere out there because of their stupid comments.

B.J. realized he didn’t feel so sleepy anymore.

Which was just as well, as he began to hear something beyond the uneven snoring of his friends. He drew himself up, listened for it again, and then jumped over to the front window to see if he could spot the source in the darkness. 

“Colonel Potter,” he said without turning, eyes locked onto something – someone – coming their way down the road. “Colonel, we’ve got company.”

Potter was roused easily from his troubled dozing and came to stand beside B.J.; Hawkeye, too, was with them in seconds, blinking rapidly to dispel any shreds of unwanted sleep.

“Is it Radar?” Hawkeye asked hopefully. “Or are we joining Frank underneath our cots for some hide-and-don’t-be-seeked?”

“In that case, I think I’d rather take my chances with whoever this guy is,” B.J. quipped.

“Lesser of two evils, surely,” Hawkeye agreed.

“Zip it, you two – we could be in real danger here, I can’t make out the man’s uniform,” Potter said, narrowing his eyes at the lone figure. He _tsked_. “A little too tall for Radar – he’s got quite an unusual gait, though, I reckon he’s wounded whoever he is.”

Hawkeye went to the back of the bus and retrieved his medical bag before making for the door. B.J. grabbed his arm.

“Now wait a minute, Hawk, he’s more than likely armed and would be a little leery of tall dark strangers approaching,” he told him. “Let’s just take things slow.”

“Hunnicutt’s right,” Potter agreed. He turned to them. “I say we try turning a light on and putting up our red cross as an invitation. If we’re dealing with an enemy – a good chance we are, with our current streak of luck – he’ll know we’re on the other side by the make of this bus, but if he’s hurt badly enough he’ll be glad to come to us anyway. If he bails, it’s out of our hands and good luck to him,” he then explained. 

“And if he’s one of ours we may get some directions,” B.J. said optimistically. He and Hawkeye nodded before going about doing what the Colonel said. As they unpacked a large white flag with the signature bold red cross printed on it, Frank – who had only just woken to hear Potter’s plan of action – poked his head out of his hiding spot to simultaneously sneer and pout at the scene before him.

“And if he IS a Commie and charges at us with his gun blasting, signaling his buddies to close in for capture?” he spouted. “You know these North Korean types, sneaky little finks, I bet they’ve already surrounded us, just lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike!”

“Burns, the North Koreans have better things to do with their resources than set up convoluted traps for medical buses that have been sitting defenseless for hours now.” Potter sounded exasperated beyond measure as he helped Hawkeye and B.J. set up the flag.

Frank made a funny noise. “That’s just what they want you to think!”

By the time everything was arranged, the mysterious figure had come close enough to better identify. The three of them watched as the injured North Korean soldier stopped for a moment to notice the bus. To their surprise, he then unstrapped his gun, let it fall to the ground, and began to run as fast as he could towards them, arms waving. He was shouting something. 

“Alright, let’s get the man some service,” Potter said decisively before heading for the door. 

Hawkeye hoisted his medical bag again and followed him. “Waiter, prepare our finest table!”

“Oui, Monsieur,” B.J. replied, making his way towards the back of the bus where the cots and other equipment were. 

Outside, Potter and Hawkeye trotted up to meet the man, catching him just before he stumbled to the ground. He was panting heavily, like he’d ran all the way from wherever he came from. They did a quick check for any immediate, life-threatening wounds, then supported him back to the bus after finding none.

“Looks like just a few superficial lacerations, could be from fragments,” Hawkeye told B.J. as they had the soldier lie down on a cot.

“Don’t bring him in here!” Frank shrieked.

“I don’t like the look of that shoulder,” Potter mused, ignoring the Major entirely as he gestured to a wound that was bleeding steadily still. They began to work on patching him up, but the soldier put a hand on Hawkeye’s wrist, glancing at each of them pleadingly as he tried to catch enough breath to say something.

“Pogbal,” he managed. “Pogbal-i iss-eossda, dangsin jung hanaga nam-assseubnida!”

“What’s he yapping about?” Frank barked.

“Calm down, son, you’re safe here,” Potter told the soldier gently.

The soldier shook his head and pursed his lips, looking as though he were trying to concentrate.

“He sounded pretty urgent,” Hawkeye said as he started to wrap a cut on the soldier’s wrist. “Hey, I wonder if he’s our unlucky mine tripper?”

“Not enough damage,” B.J. dismissed, nodding at the soldier’s relatively unharmed legs.

“No, but what if –”

“_Radar!_” the man suddenly exclaimed with a satisfied grin. They all froze in their tracks at the familiar name, staring. “Geuui ileum-eun Radar! Geuleul al-a?” The soldier put his hands up to his face and curled them into circles over his eyes, nodding in a hopeful manner.

“He’s making glasses, he’s talking about our Radar!” B.J. said incredulously. 

Hawkeye whooped before eagerly leaning in closer to the man as if that would make his English sound any more like Korean, saying, “You’ve seen him! I don’t know how, but you’ve seen him! I could just kiss you! Where is he? How far?”

“Is he hurt?” Potter added urgently between Hawkeye’s chattering. The soldier was still smiling with excitement at clearly having found the right people, but was overwhelmed with the onslaught of attention and didn’t know who to look to. The Colonel tapped on the man’s bandaged shoulder and raised his voice above Pierce’s. “_Hurt_, is Radar hurt?”

The soldier glanced from his shoulder to the grim expression on Potter’s face, back and forth, then began to nod again, understanding dawning on him. 

“Ye, sangcheo, sangcheo!” he said with wide eyes. He sat up and pointed to his leg, then to his abdomen, then trailed a finger across his face, all the while nodding insistently.

A sheet of ice spilled down Hawkeye’s back at the implication of the soldier’s movements. Those parts of the body…were those the places where Radar was hurt? The idea of the corporal being wounded at all made his nerves jump, but in the abdomen of all places…!

“Where is he?” Hawkeye demanded, his expression and voice drained of joy this time. “What direction?”

Of course the soldier didn’t understand his words, but it seemed the message was clear enough. He nodded some more and gestured towards the direction they’d been heading before the bus broke down.

Hawkeye took no time in snatching his medical bag once again. “Alright, c’mon Beej.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” B.J. said without a second thought as he packed up his supplies as well. Before, they could only speculate on what happened to Radar; now, it was all too clear what had happened, and it was time to act, danger be damned.

“Now hold it, boys,” Potter ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. The two captains were compelled to turn and listen, despite their restlessness to find their friend as soon as humanly possible. The Colonel gave them each an indiscernible look. He then sighed, resigned. “Watch each other’s backs and don’t get yourselves killed,” he said. “Stick to the sides of the road. Meanwhile Burns and I’ll try and get this vehicle in enough working order to meet up with you. Now,” his voice wavered with solemnity, “go find our boy.”

“One company clerk, extra small, coming up,” Pierce quipped darkly as the two of them stepped off the bus and into the last dregs of night.

As they ducked into the brush and started to run down the side of the road, Hawkeye tried to remember the last time he felt such a deep, persistent _worry_. It made his stomach lurch and flip sickeningly, and it was impossible to catch nearly as much breath as he needed. Despite the horrors he faced during his time here as a doctor, he’d really only been in such an emotional state a handful of times. Anxious, nervous? Deeply concerned? Practically every day in this hellhole, no doubt; but worried, truly, immensely, _achingly_ worried…

Well. It just wasn’t every day one of his closest friends (the child and pet he never had) was wounded and alone somewhere in the middle of an enemy-infested, landmine-strewn wilderness.

It’d been some time since they’d started, Hawkeye didn’t care to know how long (too late they were too late he’s dead already, must be) before B.J. stopped in his tracks. Pierce followed suit and held still, wondering if his friend had heard something. It wasn’t as dark as it had been, though the sun hadn’t quite yet broken over the horizon. B.J. moved closer to the tree line, looking out at the road beyond it.

“Hey, Hawk,” he whispered, gesturing for him to come to his side. Hawkeye did so. He didn’t notice at first, not knowing what to look for, but within a second his eyes widened at the sight of the crater close to the opposite side of the road. Then he saw the dark spatters around the crater, and his mouth dropped open a little.

“Blood, it has to be,” Pierce murmured. He stepped towards the scene, crouching a bit for whatever little stealth it offered on the open road. B.J. followed.

There were blood smears leading into the woods, as though bodies had been dragged. The Captains sidestepped bits of gore near the crater and went into the trees, cautious but eager to have found some kind of trail. It didn’t take long to come across a human-shaped lump covered in brush. They knelt by it carefully.

Hawkeye swallowed, praying not to see the face he was looking for as he moved aside the twigs and leaves that littered the body. They both let out a breath of relief; it was a North Korean soldier, horribly disfigured and very much dead.

“I think we found our mine tripper,” Hawkeye muttered, covering the face of the unfortunate soldier once again. “Poor guy; it wasn’t a quick death.”

“Sh, did you hear that?” B.J. suddenly said in a low tone. “Listen.”

They listened, keeping as still as possible. Then – a faint sound, coming from only a few feet away. It was weak and uneven. A voice.

Hawkeye jumped up and moved towards the tree where it seemed to come from the other side of. As he approached, he heard the unmistakable words.

“I’m sorry…I’m…sorry…”

His heart dropped and he finally rounded the tree, already knowing who he’d find there.

“Oh, Radar…”

It was all his fears since Radar had stepped off the bus come to life in one messy, bloodied picture. There the little corporal lay slumped against a tree, deathly pale underneath dangerous amounts of red. His cap was gone who knew where, disheveled curls flopping into his closed eyes – oh, his eyes… Tiny shards of shattered glass dug into the skin around his eyes, the bent wire frame of his glasses hanging from one ear. His head hung loosely to the side. The rest of him was a muddle of torn cloth, dirt, and brush, all soaked in dark blood.

Hawkeye couldn’t move. Couldn’t _breathe_.

“Oh, my god,” B.J. ground out as he took in the awful sight. It was only a second before he was kneeling by Radar, then, beginning to unpack his bag and check vitals. “He’s lost a lot of blood, we need to –” He did a double-take at his stock-still friend. “Hawk? Hawkeye, c’mon, I know it looks bad but he needs our help, we gotta move or we’re gonna lose him!”

Hawkeye forced himself to release his breath, blinking rapidly. “Right,” he said mostly to himself before joining B.J. He mentally shut out the mounting waves of hysteria to unleash at a later time when his surgical skills weren’t immediately needed. B.J. was right.

It looked bad. It _was_ bad, it was…horrifyingly, _hopelessly_ bad. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to get Radar through this and back home, somehow. If only his hands would stop shaking so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Korean to rough English sentence translation, in order of appearance (from Google translate):  
"A landmine, there was an explosion!"  
"Radar! His name was Radar! Do you know him?"  
"Yes, hurt, hurt!"
> 
> Wasn't sure if people wanted to know exactly what Soon-Tek was saying, though I hope the context was enough to make it unnecessary, heheh. Don't know why I didn't think to do this in previous chapters with Korean phrases...? Anyway, if it's interesting enough for you guys I'll do it in the future! Thank you so much for reading!!! I'd like to say we're in the homestretch, but honestly I'm not sure just how much I wanna draw this bad boy out...
> 
> But it's definitely not over yet~


	5. Chapter 5

Hawkeye Pierce and B.J. Hunnicutt began to take stock of the immediate damages Radar had sustained during his midnight excursion. There was a lot of blood in a lot of places, and Hawkeye had to push past the blaring alarms going off in his head at the awful sight so he could focus on finding the actual wounds amid the mess. His attention couldn’t help but to be drawn to the corporal’s ghastly face, zeroing in on a deep slash across Radar’s cheekbone that was still bleeding profusely down his jaw and throat. That was going to need stitches, certainly. 

Hawkeye leaned closer to determine if the shards of glass around Radar’s eyes had done any serious harm, carefully tilting the kid’s head into a better viewing angle with a hand supporting the base of his skull. His fingers felt more blood there, and after determining Radar’s eyes were relatively unharmed, he probed the back of his head further. There was a small cut, still oozing blood, atop a lump already the size of a goose egg. Hawkeye winced. Must’ve been one hell of a rough landing, he mused bitterly.

As he was examining, Radar’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze dull and unfocused.

“Ohhh…” he groaned before narrowing his eyes, brows scrunching together as he appeared to try and concentrate on the face before him. “Hawkeye…s’that really you, sir?” His words slurred, and he sounded pained and beyond exhausted.

Hawkeye’s heart lurched. The kid already had a voice like he hadn’t yet hit puberty, always having to drastically deepen it to get any semblance of respect from higher-ups on the radio (which never ceased to amuse Hawkeye), but now – more vulnerable and scared and hurt than he’d ever known him to be – now Radar sounded just like a lost little child out on his own for the first time. Almost without thinking Pierce moved his hand to tentatively cradle the side of Radar’s head, trying to convey as much comfort as he could without causing even more pain than the kid must already be in.

“Yeah, it’s me, Radar. Me and B.J.,” he murmured to him. His voice cracked under the weight of his emotions as he spoke. “It’s alright. We found you, you’re with us now. You’re gonna be alright.”

Radar started to say something, then, but he suddenly clenched his eyes shut, features twisting into a grimace. “H-Hurts,” he gasped. “Stomach.”

Hawkeye quickly moved his attention down to Radar’s abdomen, remembering the North Korean’s gestures but still harboring a weak hope that the worst injury he would find there would be a scrape or two. 

No such luck.

Radar had one white-knuckled hand atop a balled up, blood-soaked jacket that was pressed against his stomach. Hawkeye would have to move the hand aside and lift the jacket in order to see what it was covering. Before he could do so, however, Radar began to curl in on himself and attempt to turn to his side.

“Gah, wait wait wait,” the corporal pleaded. “Y’don’t really have to look, do you?”

Hawkeye huffed in (unsurprised) disbelief and tried for the jacket again. “Radar, of course I have to look, how can I fix what I can’t see?” It wasn’t all that difficult to gently pry Radar’s hands away from his abdomen, however, as the kid’s defensive exertions seemed to weaken him even further. “I promise I won’t look at anything I haven’t seen before.”

Radar moaned again but it sounded more out of exasperation than pain this time.

Pierce was able to carefully lift the jacket just enough to see the wound. Even in the dim light, it took just one glance to tell Radar had definitely taken some shrapnel to the gut. Hawkeye replaced the jacket and felt himself slump. No doubt about it; he had to do something about this, and fast. There was simply no time for even a moment to break down and mourn just how hurt the kid was. Radar needed him.

“His leg’s in bad shape,” B.J. grimly informed beside him. He’d torn open the fabric of Radar’s right pant leg to see the wound fully. Besides the bullet hole in his calf, there was obviously something wrong with the underlying bone. “Took a bullet to the fibula, looks like a closed fracture,” he reported. 

“Damn,” Pierce muttered blackly as he began to work. Some bastard shot Radar. Mine shrapnel was different – awful, but different – it wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, it was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But someone had actually taken aim and put a bullet in the leg of their perfectly innocent company clerk. 

Fury welled inside Hawkeye, and he clung to it, grateful for the red-hot fuel that sharpened his movements and narrowed his focus on the task at hand. 

Midway through packing the wounds, Radar started to tremble. His ragged breaths deteriorated into short little gasps, and he twisted weakly underneath Hawkeye’s hands.

“Radar? Radar!” Hawkeye glanced at the corporal, who looked to have passed out at some point while he was working. He cursed. “Beej, I’ve got my hands full, check his pulse; I think he’s decompensating,” he ordered as he pressed more dressing into the wounds in Radar’s stomach.

B.J. set his tools down and took hold of Radar’s wrist to count. “Blood pressure’s elevated,” he confirmed. He put his hand on the kid’s forehead and then his cheeks, noting that he had paled impossibly further and was damp with sweat. “Definitely gone into shock. Where the hell is Potter with that bus?”

Hawkeye could only shake his head with barely controlled panic. Radar would very soon need a blood transfusion, and for that he needed his wounds closed, and for that they needed the equipment that was on the bus. They could only stop the bleeding with what they currently had to work with, but with Radar in shock, it wouldn’t be enough, he was past that and needed surgery _now_. 

They’d just started to discuss what little options they had when they heard it – an engine. It didn’t take long to recognize it was a large vehicle engine, a _bus_ engine…! Pierce and B.J. exchanged a relieved look. It was their first big stroke of good luck out of the entire evening.

They rushed to pack up their supplies. “Here,” B.J. said, “take my bag, I’ll carry the kid.”

“Oh no you don’t, I saw him first,” Hawkeye countered, shoving his bag into B.J.’s hands. He then knelt to scoop Radar up.

“Hawk, you’re exhausted, the only reason you’re still even upright is adrenaline.”

“So no different than any other day here,” Hawkeye said casually as he lifted Radar up in his arms, trying to keep the kid’s head from lolling back. “Look, see, he’s not even heavy. Why isn’t he heavy? His lunch trays could sink fleets of Navy ships and where does it all go?”

Pierce continued to ramble as they made their way back to the road to meet the bus, and both he and B.J. were fully aware the chatter was panic fueled. At some point Radar had begun to mumble apologies again, still out cold, and Hawkeye resolved to add that mysterious guilt to the list of things he would discuss with the corporal as soon as he recovered enough (and he would recover, he _had_ to). 

Soon enough the bus pulled up beside them, Colonel Potter at the wheel. Somehow he was out and helping them get Radar carefully aboard seemingly before the bus had even stopped moving, and then so quick it made Hawkeye’s head spin, they were off again. 

“What happened?” Potter barked as he prepped the emergency equipment they had on board. It wasn’t the OR, but it was a step better than what they had in their medical bags. “Never mind, I know you know about as much as I do, but let’s at least have the run down.”

“Belly full of shrapnel,” Hawkeye began to list automatically, not letting the words settle, not letting the meaning behind them slow his movements. “Possible concussion, bullet to the fibula. Glasses shattered in his eyes.”

Potter visibly winced at that.

“We were able to pack the open wounds, but he’s gone into shock,” B.J. said.

“Let’s get some blood in him,” Potter ordered. “Oh, Nurse Burns?”

Frank, who had been standing off to the side with a poorly concealed expression of shock upon seeing the corporal’s state, was snapped back into his usual cheery self. He sputtered indignantly, “Sir, I resent being called ‘nurse’!”

“Why, Frank? It’s a million times better than anything we usually call you,” Hawkeye said without missing a beat, his mouth on autopilot.

Frank turned his sneer on the Captain, but quickly moved to begin supplying tools at a look from Potter. 

After a few minutes of this, B.J. furrowed his brows and glanced at each one of them. “This might be a silly question,” he said offhand as he went back to his work, “but just who’s driving this thing?”

“Radar’s pal, the North Korean we patched up before you left,” Potter replied, just as casual. “He was also the one who did most of the work getting the bus up and running again. And Burns, if anything comes out of that mouth,” he said just as Frank looked ready to retort something, “it’ll be your hide!”

They would’ve enjoyed the following silence so much more if they weren’t so preoccupied with keeping Radar from succumbing to his grave injuries.

-*-*-*-

Pierce’s relief at seeing the ‘Best Care Anywhere’ sign signaling their return home was purely for Radar’s sake. He would’ve happily stayed lost another week, month, a year even, if it meant the kid wouldn’t go through what he did in those woods. 

There was such a flurry of motion and activity following their arrival as Potter shouted for the staff to prep the OR for surgery before the bus came to a stop. Amid the bustle stood Margaret Houlihan, frozen with a horrified expression on her face as Hawkeye and B.J. rushed their company clerk past her and into the OR. Within seconds she was racing to join them in Pre-Op, demanding answers with the same bewilderment Pierce had been flooded with since finding Radar bloodied and bruised against some tree in the wilderness. The only answers he could give her was the list of all the ways Radar had been hurt, and for now that was all that was important.

The announcement of incoming wounded blared over the PA as Hawkeye tugged on a pair of gloves, looking down at Radar prone on the operating table before him.

“Want me to handle this one, son?” Potter offered gently beside him. Nurses were dashing out for triage.

Hawkeye tore his gaze away from the too-still, too-pale (too-young) face of their company clerk to meet the Colonel’s eyes. He shook his head after a moment.

“No. No, I got this.”

With Margaret by his side, and all the proper tools at hand, Hawkeye set about fixing what had been done outside the bus.

-*-*-*-

Major Houlihan lingered by one cot in particular during her rounds. 

Night had fallen, and the camp was quiet. Crickets and all sorts of nocturnal critters were chattering away, a soft, soothing white noise that drifted even inside the Post Op ward. The patients were all asleep and the only light in the room came from the lamp on the corner desk, steadily casting a warm, almost comforting glow on their resting faces. It was peaceful, Margaret thought. About as peaceful as this place could get.

And yet she would’ve given just about anything for that peace to be broken by a word from Radar, who had lain unconscious on that cot before her since the operation several hours earlier.

He hadn’t been totally silent, of course. There’d been heart wrenching little whimpers of pain; there’d been weak groans as he shifted uncomfortably; there’d even been strings of half-coherent apologies as he gripped the sheets tightly in both hands, all in a distressed sleep that he seemed no closer to awakening from than he did when Hawkeye left hesitantly for the Swamp just an hour ago.

Margaret prayed for the corporal to wake up, to say something, anything, so she could rush out to tell Hawkeye and B.J. and Potter and everyone in the camp that it was okay, they could all let out their collective breaths – Radar was going to be alright. 

She desperately needed that to happen, or…she didn’t know what she’d do. 

Sure, she yelled at the kid and ordered him about – but she did so with just about everyone else in camp. She never had anything personal against him; how could she? Ever since Radar arrived as the unit’s company clerk, he’d been the sweetest, most helpful, most innocent soul in this godforsaken place, next to Father Mulcahy. If he didn’t make it now…well. The 4077th wouldn’t be the same – and neither would she.

Margaret sighed and carefully sat beside the corporal, who looked so much smaller without all those layers of clothing that made up his casual daily uniform. Most of him had been wrapped in bandage, the gash across his cheek now an ugly line of stitches.

They’d have to watch for infection, she mused as she kept a casual eye on the steady rise and fall of his chest. Shrapnel wounds had the unfortunate tendency to take a turn for the worse if the wound hadn’t been cleaned right away, as was the case here. They also needed to check the severity of his concussion as soon as he woke up, brain damage was a real concern –

“Major Houlihan?”

Margaret gasped and snapped her gaze up to Radar’s face. His eyes were open.

“Radar!” she cried, then let out a breathy laugh of utter relief. “Oh, Radar, sweetie, you’re awake!” She placed a tender hand on his head, beaming at him with near tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, think so,” he murmured weakly, his voice drained and hazy. He squinted up at her. “’M really tired, though. Um…c-could I…” Radar hesitated, and at Margaret’s encouraging nod, continued in a soft little whisper, “…could I have my bear…?”

Margaret answered him by leaning down to gently kiss his forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.”

It would be some time yet before their company clerk would be physically recovered enough to return to his duties around the camp. It would most certainly take even longer for him to heal mentally and emotionally from the traumatic experience that put him through such pain. Margaret wondered if the kid would ever really be the same again.

Radar had come a long way from when he had first arrived back, looking like a corpse and on death’s front doorstep. They had very nearly lost him – but they fought hard for his life and got him back, he was _back_.

The ordeal wasn’t over, however. Recovery, Margaret knew all too well, was a very long, very painful road that always seemed to stretch into eternity for those who walked it. She was just sorry – so, incredibly sorry – that it would be sweet little Radar’s path to walk, now.

The ordeal wasn’t over. 

Far from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!
> 
> Hah, just kidding~ I mean it is the end of this fic, but not the story - I've decided to write the rest of it as a separate fic, making this into a collection, just because the tone of it is going to be kinda different. First part was definitely more hurt than comfort, second part will be the comfort of all that hurt. Really looking forward to delving into all that mess; hope you guys are too! 
> 
> Thank you so so SO much for reading all this way, and for all your comments!! They always brought the biggest smile to my face and encouraged me like you have no idea! Love you all and hope to see you on the next part!! <3


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